


the harder the rain, honey

by hazy_daisy



Series: sing me a song, darling [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Siren Jaskier, a little exploration of rain! except how much exploring did i really do, geralt's love language is service actions, little rain fic, little vignette about how jaskier loves the rain, nonhuman jaskier, prequel to 'like the slumber that creeps to me', prove me wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25056016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazy_daisy/pseuds/hazy_daisy
Summary: Jaskier likes the rain. Really, he does. Rain is like putting the ocean right there on land with Jaskier, even if it’s not quite as good, and he really does miss the ocean.If Jaskier were to wax poetic about something on land (besides language and architecture and folk tales and heroism and the really astoundingly pretty people he’s met and instruments and that one mug of ale he had at that tavern that was quite literally off the beaten path) it would be the rain. He doesn’t, mainly because he thinks it would be a little suspicious if he were to sing about how much he enjoys being outside under the deluge of water. Geralt tolerates a lot of his suspicious behavior, but there’s got to be a breaking point somewhere.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: sing me a song, darling [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660483
Comments: 22
Kudos: 376





	the harder the rain, honey

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is a hozier lyric because bitches! are too lazy! to make titles!
> 
> this is a prequel to my Bigger siren jaskier fic, but if you haven't read that, all you need to know is that jaskier's a siren and geralt doesn't know. simple. we love context. 
> 
> have fun, everybody

Jaskier likes the rain. Really, he does. Rain is like putting the ocean right there on land with Jaskier, even if it’s not quite as good, and he really does miss the ocean.

If Jaskier were to wax poetic about something on land (besides language and architecture and folk tales and heroism and the really astoundingly pretty people he’s met and instruments and that one mug of ale he had at that tavern that was quite literally off the beaten path) it would be the rain. He doesn’t, mainly because he thinks it would be a little suspicious if he were to sing about how much he enjoys being outside under the deluge of water. Geralt tolerates a lot of his suspicious behavior, but there’s got to be a breaking point somewhere.

The sky is grey, as it’s been for hours now, and the smell of rain would have been obvious even without Jaskier’s slightly-better-than-human sense of smell. Geralt had sighed, when he’d seen the sky, and told Jaskier to hurry up if he wanted to make it to the next inn before the rain hit. Jaskier’s in no hurry, really, but he appreciated the thought.

Jaskier really does love the rain. It reminds him of home.

Twilight falls, driving the sun down past the horizon, and Geralt finally pulls Roach to a stop. She complies easily, ever the gracious lady. Jaskier wishes, sometimes, that Roach got along with him as well as she does with Geralt. Geralt insists that she just doesn’t like people in general, but animals tend to have some sort of grudge against Jaskier. Probably because he’s a sea creature up on land. They can probably smell the sea on him—Jaskier knows for a fact that he still smells like sea and salt, even after all his years out of the water. It’s comforting, having some connection back to the sea. He supposes he’s willing to give up camaraderie with dogs for the sake of smelling like home.

He wonders, sometimes, if Geralt’s noticed. That he smells like the ocean. With his keen senses, it would make sense—he wonders, sequentially, what convoluted explanation Geralt has come up with to justify Jaskier’s scent, and if he’s ever going to ask him about it. The thoughts that follow usually vary between ‘would Geralt believe me if I told him I used ocean-scented cologne?’ and ‘would Geralt ever actually voluntarily ask me about myself?’.

Geralt sighs heavily, as if he’s about to do something unpleasant. Considering the gunk he comes back covered in after a hunt, Jaskier doesn’t know what lengths something would have to go to for Geralt to consider it unpleasant. 

“We’ll have to camp here, tonight,” he says, long-suffering as ever. “Listen, Jaskier, if it rains—”

_ Oh. _ Jaskier figures it out, the unpleasant thing. He’d thought that Jaskier would complain (not unprecedented, considering Jaskier’s tendency to complain about weather—specifically, the heat and having to walk in it). Well, that was a bit less flattering, but the thought was still appreciated.

“I’ll be alright,” Jaskier interrupts. “No complaints. Swear on my mother’s heart.” He flashes Geralt his most dazzling grin. 

Geralt looks a bit taken aback, if that is, in fact, an expression he’s capable of having. Wordlessly, he nods, and makes to lead Roach off the road into a clearing that he must have noticed earlier. Jaskier follows, a bit abuzz at the thought of spending the night out in the rain.

It doesn’t take long to set up camp. Geralt puts his bedroll under a tree, probably for the protection of the branches from the impending rain. Jaskier puts his nearby.

Dinner is bread and cheese. Jaskier makes a joke about the dinner of champions. Geralt eats under the trees—Jaskier takes his meal out into the clearing. 

Jaskier’s mouth is full of the last of his bread when he feels something small and cold hit the tip of his nose. With a sharp intake of breath, he looks upwards, just in time to see the first drops of rain falling from the heavy clouds. “Oh, Geralt, look,” he breathes. “It’s raining.”

When he glances over at his companion, Geralt looks dubious. “Hmmm,” is the only response that Jaskier gets, but really, he’s far too elated by the appearance of the rain to be frustrated by Geralt’s rather inadequate communication. 

The rain starts to fall harder, and Jaskier tilts his head up, letting the water run over his face.

“You like the rain,” Geralt observes, rather drily, from his seat at the roots of the tree.

Jaskier laughs, closing his eyes. “How’d you guess?”

Geralt hums noncommittally again.

Jaskier enjoys the feeling of the rain on his cheeks for a few more moments before something occurs to him. He glances over at the tree—not at Geralt, but at his things, set down nect to him. His lute’s uncovered. Jaskier panics for a moment; he always forgets that these human things don’t get along well with water, as he does. “Geralt, do me a favor? For your very best friend?”

Geralt raises a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“Cover my lute, please. My cloak’s in my pack.” He grins as winningly as he can. 

The charming smile doesn’t work. “And why can’t you do it.”

“Well, I’m sopping wet, by now, Geralt,” Jaskier says, gesturing broadly to himself. “And my lute will be, as well, if you don’t cover it up. Please, Geralt. Water’s not good for the wood.” He pauses. “Ooh. Bit of a rhyme, there.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but moves to comply. Jaskier’s heart warms, the way it always does when Geralt does something unexpected and considerate; he  _ knows _ , logically, that they’re friends, that Geralt does actually like him, but every time he sees some little confirmation, he feels like he could fly. For a moment, he thinks of kissing Geralt, out under the rain. 

He dispels the mental image a moment later, wistfully, but tucks it away in some corner of his heart with all the things he wishes were true but aren’t. Geralt might care about him, somewhere deep down, but not  _ that  _ way, and he certainly wouldn’t if he knew that Jaskier was a  _ siren _ . 

Or—well. Maybe he would. Jaskier tears his eyes away from Geralt and resolves to just enjoy the rain while it’s there.

He mutters a thank you (Geralt will hear, he’s got the same better-than-human ears that Jaskier does, even if he doesn’t know that Jaskier has tham) and tilts his face up to the sky again.

It’s the best feeling in the world, he thinks, sitting out under the downpour. Surrounded by water, the pressure of it, the embrace. Jaskier chose to leave the ocean, but it was not for lack of love toward his home. Land is fun to explore, fun to learn about, fun to experience, but Jaskier gets  _ so _ homesick sometimes.

He considers, sometimes, asking Geralt to go to the coast with him.  _ To go home with him _ . In his fantasies, it’s a big, grandiose gesture, one where he shows Geralt the wonders of the sea and then  _ tells _ him, reveals to him who he is, where he came from.

It’s a nice fantasy. Shame it’ll never happen. 

-

“Is there a reason you like the rain so much?” Geralt asks, later, once the rain has slowed to a drizzle and he and Jaskier are sitting side by side.

Jaskier would really have preferred to stay out in the slight rainfall, but he supposes that he has to keep up  _ some  _ appearances.

He considers the best way to answer the question that doesn’t start with ‘I grew up in the ocean’. He settles for, “It reminds me of home.”

**Author's Note:**

> highkey i wanted to do more with this idea but the great thing about writing is that you can always do more of it!
> 
> yowch so it got a little angstier/more romantic than it was going to be but i think it turned out nice! anyway i hope everybody has a good day and that something makes you smile :)


End file.
